Page 156 of Monsters in Love

His lips pulled back in a grimace, giving her a view of his fangs. “That is not quite accurate. He did not build the labyrinth, though what he did to it was a tragedy. The labyrinth was built by his ancestors as a place of mysteries. He merely rebuilt the entrance into something grander and far more terrible that instead of acting as a passage between worlds, he was able to cage them in here eternally.”

He gave a miserable shake of his head. “I do not know if the souls too are trapped here as the living forever are. I hope not. If they were, that would have been a far greater crime, and I would pray that the gods saw to his punishment in Tartarus where the vilest do their penance.” He huffed a sound that might have been laughter if it had contained even a drop of amusement within it. “As ill as he seems to have been remembered, my father’s cruelty is understated. He took pleasure in my torment, even as he saw to it that I was educated with the best tutors as a matter of pride when I was still small enough to be controllable by his guard.”

He bent and clipped off another couple of sprigs, throwing them into the bowl.

“I hate my father,” he admitted. “I hated his every punishment, every condemnation that left his mouth. Even as much as I hated him, however, in some ways, my mother’s transgressions against me were worse. She refused to look upon me or even speak to me except once, which she did from behind a screen when I was small. I was denied all company except those they threw to me.” His hand stilled, hovering over a yellow flower. “The ancient magic of the labyrinth allowed me to know their words and understand them clearly as they begged to be set free.” He shook his head violently, a shudder visibly rolling over his skin. “The words they screamed before I… killed them… haunt me.”

Swallowing, Vicky stepped closer, her hand shaking as she reached out sympathetically to lay her palm against his arm, cognizant of the fact that he was a killer in every way she understood the word. Yet she couldn’t help but be moved by his pain and an unease that settled in her when it came to the labyrinth. He glanced down at her hand, his body stilling. Another shudder rippled through him, and the tension eased from him, the tightened muscles relaxing under her palm.

“You are really Asterion, aren’t you?”

“I am.” The confession was a soft rumble that pulled at her heart.

A monster that he was, he was just as alone as she was, but unlike her he had been alone for centuries, caught in the madness of this place.

“How can that be? You’ve been here for centuries. And you’re saying that it is the magic that makes us able to communicate?”

He nodded and clasped her hand in his, his head lowered as he looked at the difference between them. “It is necessary for the labyrinth. Even then, it was far larger than anyone knew, stretching to a number of access points that even now I cannot number. In the depths of its history, many foreigners passed through it, and even more when Minos threw his enemies within the confines of this place. As I said, it keeps us alive… those whom it sees profitable to sustain, though in my youth I did not understand it and was too young and blinded by my anger to notice how much it began to change. At first, the labyrinth was the only kindness save for my sister that I knew, but Ariadne tried to warn me. Minos twisted the spirit of the labyrinth. It became more of a monster than what you believe me to be… more than I am, anyway.”

Asterion met her eyes, and she was caught by the terrible pain in those dark depths. “I do not deceive myself, female. I am a monster. I have done many terrible things within these corridors.” His hide quivered with what she took as repulsion. “I hate what I have become, and I am beginning to suspect that my sister was right about another thing… the influence the labyrinth has over our appetites. It makes me want to rend and consume. The satyrs who were hunting you before, I have noted that they are growing increasingly mad and violent.”

Vicky attempted to draw back, her fear rising with his confession, but he did not let her. His grip tightened as he drew her to the spring and forced her to take a seat on the rocks before releasing her. She might have sprung to her feet in an attempt to flee, except she recalled his words about not running from him and suspected that they were more of a warning. The silent plea in his eyes as he stepped away reinforced her hunch.

He gave her a grim smile, no doubt easily reading her like a book. He was ancient after all and likely had witnessed more human reactions to him than she wanted to think about. She didn’t want to think about it because it stirred pity and a sort of kindred sympathy within her. How many times since the Ravening had she been looked at fearfully, as if she were potentially a cleverly disguised monster coming into the midst of a settlement? She was certain that Asterion would suffer all of that and worse if he were roaming the world, but she couldn’t imagine that it could be more horrific than what he encountered within the labyrinth.

“You will not hurt me,” she whispered, the affirmation more for her benefit than anything else.

“I will not hurt you,” he rasped in agreement. “ I cannot… When I see you, those hungers disappear. My hunger… changes.”

Vicky gave him a sharp look, and heat rose along her neck and into her cheeks with the realization of what he meant. Suddenly she was uncomfortably far too aware of him. She wasn’t a virgin. In the nightmarish landscape that her world had become, she believed in taking her pleasures where the opportunity presented itself. She had scratched that particular itch many times. Yet to have this huge male admit such a desire inflamed once again the kernel of interest that she had tried to ignore.

The brush of his hand as he slowly washed her wound with a flat leaf that left behind an astringent burn seemed to only exacerbate her awareness of him, and she shivered under his touch. He paused, his nostrils flaring, drawing in her scent, and she wondered if he could smell the trickle of arousal warming her core. His eyes darkened, and her breath stopped. Was he going to take that as an invitation? Did she want him to?

A pleasant tingle stirred between her legs. It had been a while since she had enjoyed intimate company. Would it be such a bad thing to mutually ease their loneliness? That feeling had been a companion long enough that she recognized it well in him. Something as simple as an intimate touch and shared pleasure could make everything more bearable.

Sadly, his mind apparently did not arrive at a similar conclusion. A gusty breath left him, and he turned away, bringing her fantasies to a screeching halt. Setting aside several long strips of leaves and some vine, he turned his attention to the task of making a poultice with the herbs that were left in the bowl.

Watching him work, her lips tipped in a self-mocking smirk.I guess worrying about it is moot when he’s hardly showing any interest.

That he could control his reactions so well, despite his claims of how much she incitedthathunger, relieved her as much as it disappointed her. It wasn’t until he shifted closer to her, his legs spreading to make room for her so she could draw up closer against him, that she became aware of the bulge of his cock tenting the fabric around his waist.

“What do I call you, little female?” he asked quietly as he smeared a paste over her wound, the burn banking whatever desire surged through her blood at the erotic sight.

He lifted his soft brown eyes, a brow quirking at her so that she smiled self-consciously. Great. He was trying to heal her, and she was there ogling him like an inexperienced teenager. Between the burn of the medicine and her arousal, she had entirely missed the question.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Your name?”

“Oh, that.” She laughed in embarrassment and shrugged. “Well, once I was Victoria Ann Marshall, but now I’m just Vicky.”

“Vicky,” he murmured to himself, his fingers deftly wrapping the long strips of leaves around her arm before binding it with the length of vine. His eyes warmed as they met hers, and he smiled as he gave her hand a gentle pat and he stood. “Welcome home, Vicky. Come then, let me show you our abode, and then I must prepare the meat for our meal.”

A warmth curled in her chest as she rose and followed him. It had been a long time since she had a home. Even if the rest of the labyrinth wanted to kill her, that he wanted to share his home with her meant more to her in that moment than she had words to express. She had no illusions when it came to how dangerous this world was that she found herself in, but it felt good to be included and wanted there. That he offered it to her as her home as well, and not merely a guest dependent on his whims.

“All right, let’s see it. But perhaps we can start with your toilets.”

He gave her a confused look. “Toilets?”

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